


The Bee Knocker Story

by sapphirecobalt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Artist Dean Winchester, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Domestic, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Engineer Castiel (Supernatural), Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, Gardens & Gardening, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, No Smut, POV Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26658688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirecobalt/pseuds/sapphirecobalt
Summary: Dean recalls the infamous bee knocker that started it all.Or, the one where Cas is upset and Dean goes to great lengths to cheer him up.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 42





	The Bee Knocker Story

**Author's Note:**

> There's a couple things I want to say before the real fun begins:
> 
> 1) This fic never would have been written were it not for a few members of the Profound Bond discord server and I who came up with many of the ideas used in this fic. To my fellow members of the PB server who inspired this fic: thank you guys, y'all are the best. I included all of your ideas and I hope y'all enjoy this fic as much as I did. 
> 
> 2) A tremendous thank you to [si](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lu_lu6983/pseuds/lu_lu6983) for being the first beta I ever worked with and helping me make this fic coherent. Any remaining errors exist purely due to my own stubbornness.
> 
> That being said, on with the fic!

It was Dean’s fault, really.

No matter how much he denies it, he really is to blame. It started out small, then Dean took it too far, as he does with most things (Sam _still_ has a few scars from when he woke up duct-taped to the wall after a childhood prank war gone wrong). So _yes_ , Dean admits, that for once, he may have, kinda, sorta, possibly gone too far. But in his defense, Cas was upset.

See, it all started when fresh-out of grad-school Castiel Novak and struggling-artist Dean Winchester finally removed their heads from their asses and realized they were in love with one another. Then, they decided to live together. It was awesome...at first.

They told their loved ones and got several “Congratulations!” and even a few housewarming gifts. The stuff they owned was either thrown away, given away, or boxed up and packed in the back seat of Dean’s Chevy Impala when it didn’t fit in the truck and Sam’s prissy Prius damn near fit to burst. After what was supposed to be a trip or two but ended up being several trips, a trip to the police department to explain to the nice officer that Dean’s dresser wasn’t properly strapped to the roof and _that’s_ what caused traffic, and a quick trip to the hospital to make sure Sam hadn’t gotten hit with the dresser since he was right behind Dean when it happened, Dean and Cas were the proud renters of a crappy, postage-stamp-sized apartment in the greater downtown area.

Dean was convinced the apartment won the Guinness World Record for World’s Tiniest and Crappiest Apartment, but Cas chastised him and called it “charming” (pfffft, whatever _that_ means). Still, with some of Dean’s furniture (sans dresser), some of Cas’ furniture, a few pieces of furniture courtesy of Cas’ parents - including a brand new IKEA dresser, which didn’t even fit with their broke lumberjack artist meets broke college graduate aesthetic, but Dean can’t complain because, hey, he may not be smart enough to properly hook a dresser to the roof of his car but he is smart enough to know a free dresser is a free dresser...he complained anyway - and some decorations from their friends and family, they make the World’s Most “Charming” Apartment their own.

The apartment itself was so crowded they couldn’t have more than a few people in _any_ room without bumping into something, more than half of the burners on the stove didn’t work most of the time, the walls were beige and Dean’s pretty sure they used to be white, there was a stain of unknown origins on the ceiling of the living room, cracks in the bedroom window, several exposed outlets, and Dean was pretty sure there was a new species of mold growing in the bathroom, but it’s theirs and it’s _home_ , and that was all that mattered. (Well, the price tag mattered too, as evidenced by the new species of mold in the bathroom.)

And for the first few months (after scraping off the bathroom mould and a quick phone call to the landlord and a professional mold removal service), Dean and Cas were happy in their postage-stamp-sized apartment. Dean got to wake up to Cas clinging to him like an octopus and the dulcet sounds of his boyfriend sawing logs in his sleep every morning. He got to spend ten minutes removing himself from Cas’ octopus-like grip, make too sugary coffee in their off-brand coffee maker and a breakfast fit for kings on a stove that only cooperated every third Tuesday and only after ritual sacrifices, wait for his the love of his life to mummy walk his way to the kitchen and grunt a semi-coherent thank you when Dean handed Cas his coffee. Dean got to bid Cas a good day at his work in the garden section of Home Depot after Cas took almost half an hour to get out of bed but only ten minutes to be ready and out the door with a packed lunch and a kiss from Dean. Dean got to spend the day making art, whether for commissions or fun, ordering take-out for lunch, calling Cas on his break, making more art, and welcoming Cas home after a long day. He also got to make them a home-cooked meal for dinner, and when that didn’t work, they stopped by their next-door neighbour Missouri’s because she always made enough food to feed a small country and frequently shared the food with the “lovely boys next door” (her words, not Dean’s), and when their bellies were full, Dean got to relax with Cas in front of the flat screen tv in their room (it was too big for the living room, but it worked out for them because sometimes they would Netflix and Chill and other times they would Netflix and Chill). And after all was said and done, they got to fall asleep in each other's arms, more often than not with the tv on because neither of them remembered to turn it off. And those few months were some of the best Dean has ever had.

Until a certain brother who will not be named as punishment for his crimes ( _Gabe_ ), sent Cas a picture of his old garden from their childhood home. In the piece of incriminating evidence that served as proof of Gabe’s being an asshole, said garden fell apart without a Cas to care for it; the flowers Cas meticulously selected were wilted unless already dead and it was obvious the bees in the garden had long abandoned their once lush home. Dean watched Cas get more and more visibly sad as he stared at the picture of his once colourful garden turned dead as a doornail and the sight of it broke Dean’s not-entirely-non-existent heart.

After the said incident (as Dean refers to it, to this day) Cas began to _sulk_ because _I’m not brooding, Dean. I don’t “brood"_. Regardless of what Cas called it, he was upset about something and after more prodding than was necessary, Dean finally got an answer from Cas.

“It wasn’t just a garden, Dean, it was a safe space, a sanctuary, a _home_." Cas stared up at Dean from his position sitting on the floor looking like his puppy got run over and Dean's heart hurt for his boyfriend. He didn't know what to say, so he sat down next to Cas on the floor (even though there was a perfectly good, certifiably shitty couch right behind them), wrapped an arm around his boyfriend and best friend of seven years, and listened to Cas tell story after story about how the best garden in the world kept him safe and sane when life got overwhelming. And if Dean's ass got sore (and not for the reason he'd like) while he sat on the hard tile floor listening to stories he already knew, no one mentioned it.

A few weeks after their little heart-to-heart, Cas’ overall mood improved, even though he was still disappointed that neither of his parents bothered to take care of the garden he’d been growing for the past decade. So when Cas came to Dean, one Tuesday night when Dean was making lasagna in the oven, with a picture of a bee knocker on his phone (Thanks a lot, _Garth_ ) and his signature puppy dog eyes, it was no surprise that Dean agreed to let Cas buy one for their front door.

Anything to make Cas happy, Dean thought at the time.

Little did Dean know, those words would come back to bite him in the ass. 

The second he agreed to the bee knocker, Cas gave him that gummy smile of his (Dean most certainly did not melt on the inside, thank you very much) and ordered the bee knocker on the spot.

Or so Dean thought.

A week later, when a package came for one _Castiel Novak_ , while the man in question was off braving hippies and middle-class suburban moms at work, Dean figured Cas wouldn’t mind it if he opened the box for his loving boyfriend and installed the bee knocker so Cas would come home to a wonderful surprise; except, Dean ended up being the one who went home to a surprise when he opened the box and found several bee knockers.

 _Interesting_ , Dean thought, at the time, and interesting it was since Cas failed to mention he bought enough bee knockers to screw one onto every door in the apartment.

That night, when Cas came home, he did so to find not one but two surprises: his package containing several bee knockers and one confused and slightly irritated boyfriend.

Cas shook off his worn beige trenchcoat and threw it over the back of their couch.

“Hello, Dean,” His smile turned into a confused frown when he noticed Dean was less than pleased. “Is something wrong?”

“Your bee knockers came in. Plural.” Dean accused.

Cas’ face lit up. “Oh, that’s wonderful, where are they?”

Dean motioned to the box on the coffee table. Cas walked further into the living room, carefully pulling out all of the bee knockers as if they were precious bars of gold.

“Cas, why did you buy so many? I thought you were only going to buy the one!” Dean huffed.

“Yes, one for every room.”

Dean stared at Cas incredulously. Cas stared at Dean like he was the crazy one for not understanding why Cas would want a bee knocker on every door in the apartment. They continued their staring contest, and when Cas’ “Dean, you’re being ridiculous” look morphed into his “Pleading Puppy Dog Eyes” look, Dean gave in.

From then on, every room in the house had a bee knocker on it all because Cas’ childhood garden died and Dean wanted to make him happy; and every time Dean had to empty his bladder, the bee knocker on the bathroom door reminded him just how whipped he was. 

But did that stop him? Sorta.

It wasn’t long after Dean and Cas installed all those bee knockers on the doors of their tiny apartment that Cas bought some more and tried to install them on the _kitchen cabinets_. That’s when Dean put his foot down, and it’s _because_ Dean put his foot down that Cas didn’t put the bee knockers on the kitchen cabinets and installed bee knobs, instead ( _thanks again, Garth_ ), after an argument where Cas, once again, weaponized his puppy dog eyes, and Dean, once again, caved.

Once the bee knobs were installed on all of the cabinet doors in the kitchen, Dean reminded himself that it was all worth it to see the look on Cas’ face every time he saw the knockers and the knobs (the "Thank you!" blowjobs Dean received after approving Cas’ home improvements were very much worth it as well). As for Cas, his mood improved greatly after the minor improvements made to their now-slightly-less-shitty apartment. Dean had to admit, the new bee decor started to grow on him after a while, like a mold growing in a bathroom (or maybe that was the blow jobs talking). And everything was right in their world.

Until Cas’ parents sold the house.

When Cas received the announcement (what a wonderful phone call to witness, that was), his parents went on and on about how the house felt so big after Cas and Gabe (he finally earned the rights to his name when he bought Cas an olive green sweatshirt with the words “YOU ARE BEE-UTIFUL” written in the ugliest all-caps font and the decent sketch of a bee in white for Christmas) moved out that they couldn’t bear living in it anymore, especially since their kids didn’t visit very often (Hey, cut them some slack! Gabe’s a new business owner and Cas’s _still_ trying to find a job in his field that pays well and isn’t too far) and Cas’ childhood garden died because Cas wouldn’t care for it (that _might_ have something to do with Cas living three hours away; it’s not like he could take the train or drive there every day to water the plants, although he did try, at first). Cas’ mood darkened when he learned the lovely nuclear family who bought the house already started making plans to get rid of the garden and replace it with a pool.

After that, Cas’ mood soured, again. After that, Dean sat on the floor ( _seriously_ , what was the point of a couch if they weren’t going to use it, even if it was an incredibly shitty couch) next to his boyfriend with an arm wrapped around Cas, again. After that, Cas went on and on about how cultivating his garden growing up made him feel in control when life got out of control and how every time he was upset and needed a good cry, he ran to his garden and watched the bees buzz around in the spring or watched Gabe’s bunny hop around in the snow, again. After that, Dean’s heart hurt for his boyfriend, again.

And it was at that moment that Dean decided if he couldn’t bring Cas to his garden, then he would just have to bring the garden to Cas.

Of course, that was easier said than done, especially when they had no yard, front nor back, and they couldn’t have house plants partially due to Dean’s allergies but mostly due to lack of houseplant funds. So, naturally, _Dean_ began to sulk, because he couldn’t make his boyfriend happy.

It wasn’t until Charlie’s then-girlfriend (now _wife_ ) commissioned a magical fairy forest mural to grace the walls of the General Hospital’s children’s ward (thank you, Dorothy) that Dean realized he could still give Cas a garden.

Armed with a new found determination, Dean came up with a plan and set it in motion: Sam and Gabe would “convince” Cas to go on a _Boys Only_ trip to Vegas, with Charlie of course (“Sorry, babe, I’d love to go but I have a really big commission I have to get done this weekend"). They’d leave two hours after Cas got home from work, take turns sleeping and driving through the night, and barring any traffic, they’d arrive Saturday morning, where they would tourist their way through Las Vegas all day Saturday and Sunday, leave Sunday night and return mid morning on Monday, leaving all of them with enough time to rest and relax before returning to work for their Monday afternoon shift. In the meantime, Dean would get to work, moving all of the furniture from their bedroom into...not the bed room (not an easy feat when your apartment is the size of a postage stamp, and not even one of the nice ones), layering plastic tarps all over the bedroom floors, buying enough supplies, before, finally, painting the garden of Cas’ dreams on their bedroom walls, as a surprise for Cas when he got home from his trip to Vegas.

When Cas got home, it was a surprise, alright, and not just for him. Cas came home early on Saturday to find Dean painting grass on the walls near the floor, blaring Led Zeppelin's Greatest Hits.

“Dean, what are you doing?” (Dean was discovering just how high pitched his voice could get when startled, that’s what Dean was doing.)

“Cas! You’re home early.”

Frowning at Dean in confusion, Cas explained, “Yes. Your brother ate some bad tacos on the way to Las Vegas and got sick-” ( _Dammit, Sammy!_ ) “-so we postponed the trip and came home early.” He looked around the room, with it’s freshly painted green walls until his eyes landed back on Dean, who was in the middle of painting some emerald green grass along the bottom of the wall. “Dean, what’s going on?”

Dean sighed, gently placing the paintbrush on the ground, got up and properly greeted Cas with a hug and kiss. Cas dropped his duffle bag (it was Dean’s, but he let Cas borrow it for the weekend) by their feet; both of Cas’ hands went to Dean’s waist and their “Welcome Home!” kiss quickly evolved into a “Welcome Home!” make-out session, which ended much too quickly for Dean’s liking, so no one could blame him for chasing after Cas’ lips when the latter pulled away. 

“Not that I’m not enjoying this, because I am, and we should very much come back to this…” Cas trailed off looking and Dean’s spit slicked lips, half distracted by them, half looking for the right word. “ _Scintillating_ conversation-” His train of thought seemed to get back on track if his straightened posture and eye contact was anything to go by. “-but, Dean, what exactly are you doing?”

Dean lowered his head so it rested on Cas’ shoulder. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Oh?”

Dean mumbled, “Yeah. I was gonna paint your garden on our bedroom walls.”

Cas froze. He shrugged the shoulder Dean was on, forcing him to get off. “Dean, you were gonna paint my garden?” Cas asked in a small, disbelieving voice.

Dean didn’t meet Cas’ no doubt intense stare. “Yeah. I was gonna work on it all weekend so you’d come home to it on Monday.” He risks a glance at Cas. “Oh, c’mon, Cas, don’t get weepy on me,” he teased.

And it was true, Cas’ eyes were watering and he looked at Dean with the most intense heart eyes Dean had ever seen. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean playfully rolled his eyes, “I haven’t done anything yet, Cas.”

“Still.” Cas enveloped Dean in a great big hug. “That was very thoughtful of you,” his voice wavered. A pause. “I’m not sorry I came home early, Sam was very sick, after all, but I apologize for ruining the surprise.”

Dean rolled his eyes, although he knew Cas couldn’t see. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he muttered to Cas’ hairline. “But now, you get to help me.”

This caught Cas’ attention. He didn’t stop hugging Dean but he did look up at him. “Dean, I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.”

“Don’t worry, Cas, I’ll teach you.” Dean replied before adding, “Right after we put a different kind of bone in your body,” and punctuating it with a wink.

After a quickie that was _too_ quick, Dean set out to paint their shared bedroom with Cas’ help.

It went well! At least, at first; and that’s only because Dean did all the painting and Cas did all the watching. But after ten minutes of Cas’ frowned stare, Dean got tired of it and _kindly_ shoved a paintbrush into his boyfriend’s hands.

“Dean, I already told you, I don’t know how to paint,” Cas said rather impatiently.

“Cas, I already told you I’m going to teach you,” Dean lightly mocked, even going so far as mimicking Cas’ deep timbre.

Cas squinted; he was not amused. “Fine, then. Teach me.”

Dean grabbed a nearby paintbrush, dipped in green paint and began using long, even strokes to paint delicate blades of grass from the floor to about six inches above it, glancing at Cas every so often to make sure he was paying close attention (spoiler alert he was; he always was). When Dean was done with his Dean-monstration (as he referred to it and still refers to it, much to the dismay of his loved ones), he turned to Cas and motioned to the wall with a “your turn” kind of gesture, expecting his boyfriend to dip his brush in paint and use long, even strokes to paint delicate blades of grass from the floor to about six inches above it.

Cas did one of those things.

As expected, he dipped his skinny brush in the emerald green paint Dean had to painstakingly mix and used it to paint one long, even stroke on Dean’s _face_.

Cas stared at Dean, defiantly.

Dean glared at Cas, annoyed.

Cas smirked, defiantly.

Dean clenched his jaw, annoyed. 

Cas makes the mistake of quickly glancing at the pallet overflowing with emerald green paint, and after years of friendship with Cas, Dean’s proud to know what that face means.

 _Oh, it’s on_ , Dean thought.

When Cas looked back at Dean, they stared at each other, once more, for a small handful of seconds before they both _dived_ for the nearest paint. Fortunately and unfortunately, for both of them, there were several paint pallets and Home Depot bought, gallon-sized cans of paint in various colors; Cas went back for the emerald green paint but Dean mixed things up, scooping up some light blue on his thin brush, which wasn’t enough, and grabbed a thick brush before scooping up some light purple paint. They turned their bodies towards one another but had enough sense to angle their faces away, so that they wouldn’t get paint in their eyes (in hindsight, Dean really should have gotten them goggles), and started _swinging_.

Dean nailed Cas’ hair with a thick glob of pastel purple paint before Cas swiped at Dean’s arm, leaving a short, uneven line of paint.

Going back for more, Dean flicked light blue paint, splattering Cas’ cheekbone.

Cas decided to even things up, by grabbing two more brushes, one thicker than Dean’s the other thinner, scooped up some bright yellow paint in all three brushes, leaving behind some green, and flung it at Dean. 

Dean wasn’t fast enough to duck and got pelted by a few globs of annoyingly cheery yellow paint on his hair, forehead, and cheek. 

A glob of purple paint from Cas’ hair fell on his nose and Dean tried his damned hardest not to laugh when Cas went cross-eyed trying to look at it. Cas wiped some of it off with the back of his hand and stared at Dean.

Dean stared back. 

They both ran to the nearest paint and brushes, grabbed as many brushes as they could hold, scooped up as many random paint colours as they could and started swiping, splattering, and flicking as much paint as they could on one another; they only stopped when Dean’s composure broke after Cas spit out a bit of white paint that Dean accidentally flung into his mouth.

(To clarify, Dean only laughed at that because the image of Cas spitting out a white substance clashed with the image of Cas insisting he swallow a different kind of white substance during their quickie earlier; he did _not_ laugh because Cas got paint in his mouth, since he wants to keep getting laid.)

When Dean came up for air from laughing so hard his sides hurt and he had tears in his eyes, he noticed Cas’ glare melted into sadness as he had a look around the room. Dean closed the short distance between them and enveloped Cas in a hug. Cas wrapped his arms around him and rested his head on Dean’s shoulders; Dean responded by running a hand through Cas’ silky, inky black hair, inhaling the coconut scent of Cas’ shampoo and rubbing little circles into Cas’ back. After a few minutes of Dean holding Cas tenderly, lightly massaging his back and making his hair even messier, Cas’ all but _melted_ in his arms. It took a bit of coaxing, but Cas finally admitted he started their little paint war hoping to distract Dean long enough to forget about Cas helping with the mural; Cas didn’t know how to paint and didn’t want to risk ruining the mural but ended up doing so anyways during their paint war, as evidenced by the multicoloured paint splatters found _everywhere_ , especially on their skin and clothes. Dean reminded Cas that he’s not the only one who messed up the mural, seeing how Dean, himself, was a very enthusiastic participant. He reassured Cas that the mural wasn’t ruined and even if it was, they could always paint over it. But the most important thing Dean told Cas that night, he whispered into Cas’ ear when their foreheads were pressed together, “I want us to do this together. Just you, me, several paintbrushes, a dozen or so cans and tubes of paint, and my ‘Best of the 80s’ playlist,” and despite never having said the words, Cas understood the meaning behind what Dean meant. _Dean loved Cas_. And if after that revelation, the two of them made out a bit (okay, a _lot_ ), then it was nobody’s business but their own.

The lovebirds spent the rest of the day covering up the paint splatters created during the war before Dean taught Cas how to mix and paint grass the color of Dean’s eyes; afterwards, they ordered some take out, showered together, and snuggled up under the bedsheets on the couch falling asleep not long after whispering love confessions into one another’s skin.

The next day, Cas insisted they paint a variety of flowers, so they started with the standard roses and they painted bushes and bushes of roses in red until Dean called it cliche, Cas scowled at him (“It’s _romantic_ , Dean.”) and they compromised by painting the roses every colour of the rainbow because “now it’s romantic _and_ gay”. The roses ended up taking longer than expected, so that by the end of the weekend Cas’ enchanted garden only had grass and several thorny bushes of multicolored roses.

Since Cas had work the following week, Dean ended up painting most of the lavenders and cornflowers by himself, but only when he wasn’t working on commissions, cooking, cleaning, eating, showering, or taking a break. It wasn’t anywhere near as much fun when he had to do it by himself, but he did listen to a lot of Zeppelin to help him get by until Cas came home and they could do it together, once Cas was up for it. 

Once the lavenders and cornflowers were added to Cas’ enchanted garden, the forget-me-nots were painted on the walls; these took a while to paint because Dean insisted on mixing every possible shade of blue and purple to get them _just_ right.

Up next were the apple blossoms and Dean carefully painted these to the tune of one of his favourite songs: Cas explaining how apple blossoms symbolized peace, sensuality, and good fortune. Truth be told, Dean didn’t give a rat’s ass what the flowers symbolized, but he loved how animated Cas got when he talked about his passions.

Sometimes, when Cas was in one of those moods where he went on and on about the symbolism behind the flowers he planted in his garden, way back when, Dean got distracted by the way his boyfriend’s eyes lit up; that was the happiest Cas had been since he found out about his garden. So if the mural took longer to complete than it should have because Dean loved how excited Cas was again, it was damn worth the months they couldn’t sleep in their bedroom properly. 

Once all of the flowers had been painted, including sunflowers, jasmines, daisies, petunias, and poinsettias, Cas and Dean agreed to paint on some insects, to make the garden feel more alive, and by “insects” Cas meant “bees”. So. Many. Bees. 

After three months worth of painting and Dean-did-not-want-to-know-how-many-dollars-worth- of-paint, their mural was finally complete, and Dean almost cried tears of joy. It’s not that Dean didn’t enjoy this little project of theirs, cause he did. He loved dancing around their bedroom, listening to Cas belt out the lyrics to some of Whitney Houston’s greatest hits. He loved teaching Cas how to mix paint and how to paint certain shapes by standing behind his boyfriend, putting his hand on Cas’ hands and guiding him, especially when those lessons turned into messy make-out sessions (and how could they not when Dean pressed up against Cas and their faces were so close together and their breaths mingled in the air?). Dean even loved, in a twisted, sort of masochistic way, when they’d argue and settled it with a paint war, which, more often than not, ended in messy make-out sessions or even messier blow job sessions. Dean loved how much Cas reverted to his old, pre-incident self the most. But as much as he enjoyed all of that, he enjoyed the satisfaction of finishing a piece just as much. So much so that when the mural was complete, he wrapped an arm around Cas’ shoulder and looked around their freshly painted bedroom in awe and when Cas came up with the idea of painting the ceiling, Dean almost cried. 

The ceiling, Cas decided, (without absolutely no input from Dean, he might add, and he does) should be the night sky. The ceiling, Dean decided, should be left as is. In the end, they compromised and settled on the ceiling being the night sky (in Dean’s defence, Cas’ puppy dog eyes are his kryptonite).

Dean painted the entire ceiling a rich blue/black colour and got dripped on during the process. And since Dean was smart (enough), he enlisted the help of their friends when splattering stars and hand painting constellations. During this particular painting session, Cas took it upon himself to paint the constellation Aquarius on their ceiling, near where his side of the bed would be; meanwhile, when Cas wasn’t looking, Dean painted the well-known constellation _Penis_ on their ceiling, near where _his_ side of the bed would be. A few nights later, Cas stared at their glow in the dark stars, looking for the constellations he and their friends painted, like he did every night they slept in sleeping bags, and noticed the stars in the shape of a dick. When he pointed them out, Dean was beyond grateful it was very dark so Cas couldn’t see the deep blush on Dean’s face when Cas made an off-hand remark about how Dean should have made the dick bigger. Regardless, Dean was happy that they were finally done painting their room. 

Until Cas thought their headboard was too boring. 

Then they broke out the paints and brushes _they had just finished putting away_ and went to town on their headboard painting bees, dragonflies, ladybugs, Blue Emperor Butterflies, hummingbirds, and Emerald Swallowtail Butterflies. But did Dean complain? Yes, yes he did.

At least until Cas gave in and let Dean paint a portrait of Cas as an angel on the back of their door. 

Once the headboard was finished, Dean was eager to create his most ambitious piece yet. Since it was a stylized but no less realistic portrait of Cas, Dean went so far as to measure Cas’ dimensions, so the painting would be proportional, and if during said activity, measuring Cas‘ dick led to some fan- _fucking_ -tastic sex, well then that was just the cherry on top of a very sexy sundae.

After several weeks of hard work, Cas as an angel with six badass black wings sprouting from his back was immortalized on the back of their bedroom door, in all of his naked glory (Dean’s especially proud of how _accurate_ Cas’ dick was, not surprising given all the _research_ he did). Cas, on the other hand, could not look at the painting of himself as an angel without blushing furiously and Dean loved every second of it. Cas, knowing very well Dean painted his angelic self naked on purpose, was not having any of Dean’s shit and insisted Dean paint some clothes on it, which led to Dean laughing and asking Cas _why_. Cas promptly got tired of it and hammered a towel on the door, situating the offending rag in a way that covered up the angel’s naughty bits. Dean, having had his fun, let Cas do it and didn’t complain once.

Finally, _finally_ , they were done painting their godforsaken room and could move all of their furniture back in and enjoy it from their bed instead of their sleeping bags.

Until Cas announced, a few days post hammering the offending rag onto his angelic portrait, he wanted to paint some fairies around his garden because “What’s an ‘Enchanting Garden’ without fairies, Dean?”. Dean glared at Cas’ smirk, both of them knowing Cas paying Dean back for the (badass and sexy) nude portrait. But the joke’s on Cas because Dean refused to help him. This led to Cas not helping Dean the furniture back into their room until he was done painting, and ended in Dean helping Cas paint fairies on their bedroom walls anyways, to speed up the moving-furniture-back-into-their-room process; soon thereafter, the joke on Cas turned into the joke on Dean. Dean, to this day, is proud to say he only complained _mildly_ when being blackmailed into painting fairies onto their bedroom walls. When Cas finished struggling to paint the last fairy (“Fight the fairies!”), Dean nearly wept, honest to God tears.

And then Cas wanted to paint vines onto their Dollar General bought lamps, and Dean did.

At the very least, Dean can say they waited until after they moved all of their furniture into their newly (and finally) painted room before painting the bedroom lamps in the living room, just so Dean never has to paint another goddamn thing in their room ever again. 

Sometimes, Dean wonders if he did something to legit piss Cas off, especially when Cas got the idea to paint honeycomb patterns and beehives, of all things, on the inside of all their cabinet doors, including the ones in the bathroom ( _Thanks a lot, Gabe!_ ).

Once the last godforsaken cabinet is painted, Dean contemplates a career change.

He doesn’t go through with it.

Finally, just when Dean was finally starting to accept that they might never be done painting their apartment, Cas announced he loved the cabinets, the lamps, their room, and even his portrait on the wall, several months after Dean came up with the idea to recreate Cas’ childhood garden in their bedroom. Again, Dean cried honest to God tears, because they were finally done.

In hindsight, _perhaps_ Dean overreacted. After all, he got to practice painting, he spent a lot of time with Cas, even got to teach Cas a thing or two about art and he made Cas _very_ happy (in turn, Cas rewarded Dean for his patience by fucking Dean in a way that allowed him to see the portrait of Cas as an angel in a homemade loincloth while getting railed by the real Cas from behind. Best. Sex. _Ever_.); meanwhile, Cas got to see Dean in action, spent time with him and got to learn a thing or two about art. So yeah, looking back, Dean supposed it wasn’t all bad.

They moved all of their furniture back into their room, soon thereafter; that first night under their hand-painted, glow in the dark stars was one of the best nights Dean’s ever had, partially because they “made love” (Cas’ words, not Dean’s), but mostly because they talked and talked all night, about nothing, anything, and everything in between. In that moment, illuminated by the glow in the dark constellation _Penis Major_ , as Cas so aptly named the dick-shaped one, Cas had never looked more beautiful, more vulnerable, more like himself than when he talked to Dean about the different birds and bees he saw in his garden; in that moment, illuminated by the glow in the dark constellation Penis Major, Dean had never been more sure that he was in love with Cas and wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. Once the realization dawned on him, he blurted it out to Cas, who went from shocked to the happiest human being that ever existed while crying, confessing his love for Dean, and peppering Dean’s face with kisses.

Five or so years after the two of them finished painting their room and after their _enthusiastic_ love confessions, Dean and Cas had saved up enough money to buy a house, and they did. It was a beautiful and “cosy” cottage far enough away from the city to avoid the hustle and bustle, but not so far it took longer than an hour to get there.

Once the announcement was made, congratulatory hugs and housewarming gifts were given; stuff owned was either thrown away, donated, or boxed up and carefully organized in the back of the Impala or the U-Haul. Dean and Cas (and Charlie, Sam and Gabe) repainted the entire apartment an off white color, as per the agreement they made with their pompous landlord Crowley (Dean and Cas repainted all the walls in the apartment and Crowley didn’t kick them out for breaking the “No painting the apartment” rule listed on some random page of their lease agreement), before casting one last wistful glance at the apartment and leaving. Afterwards, all of them said goodbye to Missouri and her new grey kitten Jesse, with Dean and Cas accepting the dozen or so casseroles she baked them, knowing better than to decline her offer after learning the hard way. Casseroles in hand, they made their way to the impala, got in, drove off into the sunset and never looked back.

Dean had to admit, their “cosy” cottage was just that: cosy. Cas and Dean often argued about what they wanted their new home to be like and how they wanted it decorated, and their new cottage was the perfect combination of “modern” and “lumberjack”. It had warm, brown wood and large glass windows, and a wrap-around porch. The windows were topped off with some nice white curtains and the two of them added a wooden porch swing. The appliances were modern steel, at Cas’ insistence, but most of the furniture fell somewhere between “Lumberjack” and “Rustic Chic”, at Dean’s insistence. All of the furniture was hand made and bought from small, artisanal businesses because if it wasn't, Cas would never have agreed to most of the furniture Dean picked out; meanwhile, all of the appliances were store-bought, because if they weren’t, Dean never would have agreed to most of the appliances Cas picked out. Was it a clash in aesthetics? Yes. But it was _their_ clash of aesthetics and it was _home_. The cottage itself was spacious (no more bumping into things) but not overly large, the sparkling new appliances worked like a charm, the AC and heater both ran like a dream, the water pressure in the bathroom was _marvelous_ (best part is: no mold!) and it even housed a guest bedroom and bathroom in addition to the master bedroom.

But the best part, in Dean’s own humble opinion, is the new routine their new place allowed them to have. Dean got to wake up to Cas clinging to him like an octopus, no longer sawing logs after a few doctors appointments, admiring the view of his boyfriend bathed in the golden morning light. He got to spend several minutes removing himself from his boyfriend’s strong grip, got to make coffee the way it was supposed to be made (black with two sugars, no cream) in their fancy coffee maker and a breakfast fit for kings on a stove that worked when it was supposed to while waiting for the love of his life to zombie walk his way into the kitchen and accept his morning cup of tea, only to grunt a mostly coherent thank you. Dean got to eat breakfast with Cas on the porch swing, watching the sunrise over the trees, usually in silence, when the weather permitted and he got to eat breakfast with Cas in their breakfast nook, watching the sunrise over the trees through the windows, usually in silence, when the weather didn’t permit. Dean got to send Cas off to his job as an environmental engineer with a special homemade lunch, a handwritten note, and a big smooch after Cas took twenty minutes to get out of bed but only ten to get ready for work. Then Dean got to spend the day working on commissions and making art for fun in his half of the third bedroom that served as Cas’ office and Dean’s art studio. Additionally, Dean got to heat up and the previous night’s leftovers while he talked to Cas on his lunch break, made more art, and made them both a home-cooked meal for dinner. When Cas came home, Dean got to sit with him while they ate and talked about their day, either on the porch swing or in the breakfast nook. And when their bellies were full, Dean got to curl up with Cas, either on the couch or in their queen-sized bed, and watch tv until they fell asleep.

And on weekends, Dean got to watch Cas do yoga in front of their large living room windows, when he was supposed to be reading or mailing out commissioned art and stickers, which, more often than not, led to them fucking in front of their large living room windows. In the evenings, Dean got to watch Cas cultivate their new garden, watched as his boyfriend planted roses in every colour of the rainbow, lavenders, cornflowers, forget-me-nots, and apple blossoms, sunflowers, jasmines, daisies, petunias, and poinsettias, explaining the symbolism behind all of them. And when Cas wasn’t working on his garden, Dean got to sit in the grass with him, on a blanket, as Cas told him, the butterflies, the birds, and the bees stories about Cas’ childhood garden, which they already knew. A few years after moving in, Dean even got to watch Cas grow the beehives he always dreamed of and harvest the honey, which Dean used to make the _best_ honey apple pie.

One of the best parts about their new garden was when Dean got to accept Cas’ proposal in the middle of it.

The other best part was when Dean and Cas got to declare their love for one another in their new garden, in front of loved ones.

The other best part of their wedding night was when Dean and Cas got to have sex, taking turns fucking each other while the other faced the painting of Cas as a sexy naked angel with six wings and a towel for a loincloth.

(Dean didn’t want to repaint that masterpiece on another door but he didn’t want to paint over it either so he reasoned that the only logical thing to do was to unscrew their old apartment door and replace it with the bedroom door from their cottage. Surprisingly, Crowley was okay with this; unsurprisingly, Cas was not. But following the conversation where he got Cas to admit that if it were Dean painted as a six-winged, naked angel on the back of the door, Cas wouldn’t hesitate to rip the door from its hinges, Cas agreed, begrudgingly, to let Dean keep the door.)

Following the wedding night, Dean installed the bee knocker on the front door ( _only_ on the front door this time) and the bee knobs on the kitchen cabinets, as a surprise wedding gift for Cas. Cas, in turn, didn’t ask Dean to paint any more walls, ceilings. or headboards; instead, Cas used green and blue paint to abstractly represent his and Dean’s profound bond on a canvas, which they hung on the wall above their bed.

So yeah, looking back, _maybe_ Dean took it too far like he always does.

It was Dean’s fault, really, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated.
> 
> This is some of the stuff we get up to in the Profound Bond Server. Are you 18+? Do you ship Destiel? Come join us at the [Profound Bond Server ](https://discord.gg/profoundbond). We'd love to have you!


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